


Lucky Stars

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: Welcome to Wall Rose [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ...i guess, Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bratting, Dom/sub, Filthy, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, Overstimulation, Piercings, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6083451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean finds out his boyfriend is a tentacle monster. It goes surprisingly well. </p><p>(Or an extended series of tentacle porn in the same universe as Welcome to Wall Rose.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucky Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was all strictly for the sake of figuring out Tentacle Creature Marco’s anatomy and not cause gratuitous porn. But also now I'm going to write so much gratuitous porn. So. Much. Welcome to the Tentacle Marco sin boat!

Jean stared unblinkingly, lips parted in shock. Marco looked down, free hand curling into a fist at his side as his shoulders seemed to slump and curl in as if in an attempt to make himself seem smaller. His other arm was sort of curled in front of him, one of those things wrapped around it, blocking the area just before his body sort of…flowed into a bunch of darkly colored twitchy…things.

In different circumstances Jean would have assumed he was hiding his dick but now he figured literally anything could be going on.

Did Marco even have a dick?

Also the idea of Marco trying to protect his modesty when he’d just stripped down and turned into whatever it was he was was hilarious, and very Marco. Jean was certain that whenever his higher brain function returned from the trip it had taken he might even find the presence to laugh.

Unfortunately Jean’s ability to reason was in witness protection for it’s own good and had been for some time. He was, essentially, on his own.

Aside from the ghost of a sixty-some-odd-years grandmother he shared his apartment with and, of course, the rather large tentacle monster in his living room.

Speaking of Marco was starting to shrink further in on himself, looking increasingly nervous as the silence stretched on and Jean still didn’t manage to close his mouth or blink. (While not strictly human himself Marco knew blinking was something a person was supposed to do occasionally.) Gleaming white teeth were digging into his bottom lip so hard that the color was being driven out. Tentacles twitched anxiously.

Jean made a noise that was either laughter or what remained of his sanity lighting itself on fire. Then blinked. And breathed. And looked at Marco again, carefully considering. Marco was still Marco: big brown eyes, neatly parted black hair, freckles scattered over his face, shoulders, and chest that glowed like stars across the purplish-blue of his skin, the way that night sky color lightened and faded into a soft cream over his stomach and…wait, no, some of that was new.

Still pretty hot though.

The tentacles were…he wasn’t sure what to make of them. There the same dark purple-blue and the firefly like freckles showed up in seemingly random groupings. They were long, really long; Marco was standing at roughly the same height he was when not a blue tentacle monster and that still left plenty of length to curl and flow out over the floor around him. They all started out thick and then tapered down until they were maybe as big around as two of Jean’s fingers.

No visible slime or gunk or otherwise disturbing fluids. Nothing particularly dangerous looking that he could see.

He could work with this. Well, not work with it because that sounded kind of dirty and that wasn’t what he meant though it was worth noting that finding out he was dating a guy with octopus legs, or maybe squid legs he hadn’t counted yet, hadn’t actually affected his boner any.

Except now it was a decidedly confused boner but it wasn’t really the time to start assessing whether or not he had a tentacle fetish he hadn’t been aware of.

Or maybe it was exactly that time. He had, on occasion, come across some  porn that was suddenly amazing relevant to his life when he’d been younger and he’d-

No no not the time.

“Sooooo. Are you some kind of…sea creature?” And oh, Sasha’s apparent Little Mermaid obsession suddenly made sense. So much sense. He was taking back every piece of merchandise he’d gotten her and set them all on fire.

But not until Sunday when acts of petty vengeance were part of the community activities for the day.  

“Jean,” Marco’s lips curved into a half smile. “I live in the desert. Do you think I”m a sea creature?”

“Oh. I just arrested people from the Underground City protesting our lack of city wide greening initiatives, the Glow Cloud Cult meets here once a week, you have tentacles and I’m still horny but ‘sea creature’ is where this all breaks down.” Jean snarked.

Marco’s eyes narrowed in a way that was actually incredibly creepy (but then what about Marco wasn’t vaguely creepy? He’d been freaking Jean out long before all of this.)  then, very slowly and deliberately, he let his gaze drift down Jean’s body. He pursed his lips. “That’s interesting.”

Not the time.

He turned his attention to the tendril that had wound itself tightly around Marco’s arm. He shifted forward on the couch then reached out before he could second guess himself.

It felt…like skin. Soft. Warm, firm with a little bit of give under his fingers. Most definitely not slimy.

“Wait, don-Ahh.” Marco’s breathing stuttered as Jean went from poking to dragging a finger down the appendage towards where the tip was resting against Marco’s wrist. Another tentacle shot up, winding itself around Jean’s wrist and yanking his hand away. It wasn’t holding him hard enough to hurt but he still found himself surprised by the strength in the grip.

He doubted he’d be getting free until Marco felt like letting him go.

“Jesus.” Jean looked up to find Marco’s cheeks tinted a brighter purple. “Maybe you could give me a little warning before you do that?”

“Did I hurt you?” He frowned at the thought. He should have asked. For all he knew human contact burned Marco or…something. He wasn’t exactly well versed in tentacle people interaction.

“Did you hurt- for fuck’s sake.” Marco muttered then rolled his eyes. “Some of them are…sensitive. Towards the tips.”

“Sensitive like-” Marco’s eyebrow went up. Jean blinked then, as realization hit, drew back in surprise. “O-oh. Sorry I didn’t…I won’t do it again. I was-”

He shook his head, not sure what he could say next. He tried to pull away more but the tendril around his wrist tightened with just enough pressure to make it clear Marco wanted him to stay where he was.

“I said to warn me, not that you shouldn’t touch me. I know you’re probably curious?” Marco said slowly, looking as unsure as Jean felt. “And I don’t mind. I, uh, I mean…I’d like you to want to touch me. If you wanted to.”

Fifteen minutes ago they’d been making out like frantic smitten teenagers and now it felt like that awkward ‘where should I put my hands moment’ that came when trying to navigate past sloppy kisses to something else.

Which wasn’t an inaccurate sentiment, though Marco was giving him a pretty clear suggestion on where he should be putting his hands and he…did sort of want to take him up on it. Not in a weird way, of course, but in a purely curious ‘for science’ sort of way that had nothing to do with how nice Marco’s tentacle felt wrapped around him or really wanting to know what kind of control he had over them and

Oh god he regretted ever bit of tentacle porn he’d ever accidentally stumbled on and then watched or read all the way through.

He was going to need to spend a lot of time thinking about his life choices and things like that. Later.

He licked his lips then reached for the tentacle around his wrist. He hesitated just before making contact, looking back at Marco’s face to find an almost skittish expression there. Marco was, for the most part, easy going and sometimes even bordered on smug when he was on the radio but now he looked like one wrong move might send him out of the front door.

Right. Marco was as nervous as he was, maybe even more so-Jean wasn’t the one risking rejection here- and was letting him take the next step.

It didn’t feel any different the second time, not really, but there was something different about it. A shift in the air maybe or just that Marco didn’t stop him this time. It was the same tentative touch as before, first a finger and then two sweeping over soft skin, but he paid more attention. He could feel muscle twitching under the skin and when his shifted to part of the tentacle not around his wrist and carefully ran his fingers along the underside, he felt something-ridges? Bumps? They were firm, sort of ovalish, and started out practically on top of each other but got larger and more spaced out as the tentacle got thicker.

He thumbed along the bumps then into the spaces in between; the skin felt thinner there and he could feel the thrum Marco’s pulse under his fingertips. Marco breathed out loudly and the tentacle loosened it’s grip from his wrist. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hand now that it wasn’t held in place-reach for more of Marco?- so he just let it drop into his lap and continued his exploration.

He wrapped his hand around the tentacle and swept down towards the tip to get a feel for the weight and how it narrowed along the way. It sort of jumped in his grasp and writhed around against his palm but a gasp of ‘It’s fine.’ kept him from letting go.

He repeated the motion, gripping a little firmer, sliding up until the tentacle was too wide for his fingers to meet around and then back down. A few strokes and his fingers glided through something thin and slick around the tip and when he rubbed his thumb there he felt a slit. He realized, a slightly hysterical laugh welling up in the back of his throat, that he was jerking off a tentacle but Marco’s soft strangled moan killed the humor quickly.

The purple flush has spread over his entire face, making the firefly like freckles stand out that much more.  His eyes were dark, almost black in the flickering light of the tv screen, and his mouth had gone slack. Jean swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth.

He was pretty sure he could get really into this or maybe was already into it, weird as it was, if it had Marco making those kinds of faces. It made it easier to ignore the part of his brain still screaming about how very not normal all of it was.

He’d gotten very good at ignoring that part of his brain over the past few months.   

He could do this. Marco was enjoying it, clearly, and it actually wasn’t all that unfamiliar; a handjob was a handjob even if it was a tentacle, right? He was pretty sure he could happily sit and pet all of Marco’s appendages if it meant he got to keep listening to all those gasps and moans.  

Only he wasn’t all that sure it was really the same. Was this how sex with Marco worked, basically the same but…tentacle-y? Was it a one and done kind of deal or was it all of them as separate things? He would have killed for a diagram or a helpful ‘So your boyfriend is a tentacle creature and you’re trying to figure out the sex thing’ pamphlet.

“Uh. How do we do this?” He asked. Marco’s brow furrowed in confusion and Jean huffed. “Just. How do you…work, I guess?”

He knew he sounded stupid and nervous but ‘How exactly do I get you off’ just didn’t want to roll of off Jean’s tongue.

“Right.” Marco’s tongue swept over his lips, very pink against the blue. “Right. It’s kind of the same? Or…I should just-okay.”

He shifted his weight, looking nervous again, and the tentacle in Jean’s hand pulled away. Marco seemed to hesitate for a second then moved the arm he’d kept curled in front of him to show

“Shit.” Jean had a lot of thoughts at once and would readily admit later that the first thing out of his mouth probably wasn’t the best thing.

Marco flinched. “I know this is a-”

“Can I suck you off?” Nor was the second but he was too busy leaning forward and reaching for the -tentacle? cock? tentadick?- that Marco had been keeping covered. It wasn’t much different, visually, from the other ones aside from size.

“Lot to take-What?”

It _squirmed_ in his hand and Jean officially put the experience at the very top of his weird shit list. The sandstorm had been edging all of this out but, nope, tentacle dick won for various reasons not the least of which was that it was covered in something slick.

“Serious question” He said stroking from base to tip. One of Marco’s hands found his shoulder and squeezed. “It’s not toxic or anything?”

It wasn’t that serious a question.

A surprised noise came from above him. “No, not toxic. Are you going to-” He let the question hang there, which was dangerous in Wall Rose because who knew what letting something hang like that could result in, but Jean knew what he meant.   

And he absolutely was. He was in, after all, so might as well just go for all of it and sort out all the ‘oh god what did I do’ stuff after.

And he liked sucking cock. It wasn’t the sort of thing he want around advertising and it wasn’t like he had a long list of partners or went around chasing people to suck them off (he hadn’t gotten any in so long it was distressing) or anything but he liked it and it was there and, yeah, it was purple and a tentacle and moving around but maybe that just kind of made him want to do it more.

Maybe a tiny tentacle fetish.

He used his free hand to hook around Marco’s torso and drag him closer while ducking his head down. The first lick, over the smooth tip with the flat of his tongue, was a cautious one. It was…fine. Salty and a little bitter, mostly tasted like skin. His mouth didn’t feel any different and as far as he could tell he wasn’t dying; good signs. Another lick down to the root and then back up with an open mouthed slide.

Yeah, no, this was going to work out fine. His hand wrapped around the base as he licked over the tip again, followed it with a wet sucking kiss, and then opened his mouth to take Marco in. Silken skin glided over his tongue and he hummed as he pressed up against it and sucked. It jerked and twitched a bit, was a little thicker than he was used to, but other than that it wasn’t any different; Marco was hot and heavy against his tongue just like he liked and he couldn’t help but groan around it.

There was an answering fluttering moan above him and a hand on the top of his head, threading gently through his hair. Some other time he’d let Marco know that a little roughness wasn’t unappreciated.

He twisted his hand a little around the base as he sank down, taking the tentacle in deeper. Spit started to pool in his mouth as he hollowed out his cheeks and curled his tongue up against the underside more. He went slow, bobbing his head and taking a little bit more in each time until the tip was touching the back of his throat. His hand worked, sliding up until it was nearly contact with his lips and Marco was making the best noises.

He breathed in through his nose then swallowed while opening up his throat and sliding further down.

The hand on his head spasmed and Marco swore loudly as his hips jerked forward, pushing deeper. Jean swallowed again and opened up a little wider, gripping Marco’s hip to keep him in place when he tried to pull back; he hummed what he hoped the other man would be able to tell was approval.

The response was hesitant, a careful push paired with a gentle stroke over the top of his head. The tentacle sort of twisted and the tip flicked against the roof of his mouth on the drag out. Another push in, harder this time, and Jean hummed again. Drool started to leak out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

He liked it messy and wet, liked having his hair pulled and mouth used, and it wasn’t exactly that but it was still pretty good. He wondered idly would it would take for Marco to get a little mean.

Something else to think about later because once Marco got going, as careful as he was, it was hard for Jean to think about anything except the cock-tentacle?- in his mouth, wiggling in his throat and he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, dragging wet filthy noises out of him. He was hard, uncomfortably so, and it wasn’t getting any better with the sound of Marco murmuring his name echoing in his ears and only the feel of his sweatpants barely rubbing over him when he shifted around for stimulation.

His jaw and neck started to ache at about the point Marco’s rhythm started to falter. Another breathe and then he slide down until he was gagging a little while slurping around Marco. Marco gasped out a warning and then there were spurts of thick cum painting the pack of his throat. He tried to take it all but in the end he pulled off and had it dribbling past his lips anyway.

Tentacle cum didn’t taste any better than the human variety.

He settled back on the couch and wiped at his mouth before looking up into Marco’s wide glazed eyes. He licked his lips, chasing the echos of salty bitterness, while reaching to palm himself through his sweats. He let his head fall back, eyes shutting, and pushed his hips up into the touch. There was a wet patch already and, when he snaked a hand instead, he was leaking precum. A squeeze and his toes curled; this wasn’t going to take much.

Marco laughed breathlessly; Jean cracked an eye open in time to catch a smile that could only be described as filthy. He surged forward and Jean yelped in surprise. Hands found his shoulders and shoved him backwards and to the side until he was sprawled awkwardly on the couch, one leg left dangling over the edge with his head resting on one of the arms. Then Marco was on him, hands keeping him from sitting up as he sort of…flowed across his body. There were tentacles touching him, undulating and flowing over his legs and parts of his chest, creeping under his shirt and past the waistband of his sweatpants.

It was a whole lot out of nowhere and he couldn’t quite keep up with all of the varying touches at once. It didn’t make sense to be touched so many places at once and oh, but it was really fucking good. He arched up as one of his nipples was brushed over by something damp and shuddered when he felt a tentacle wrapping around his dick.

It wasn’t like a hand, not really. It sort of coiled around him, warm and pulsating as it conformed to his shape and pressed against the piercing below the head. He forgot how to breath as the ridges slowly rubbed against him, twisting and rotating down and then back up.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

Marco’s mouth touched his ear, wet and hot and oh there was no way a person’s tongue was supposed to be that long. A nip on his ear and then lower along his neck before finally moving to his mouth. He could barely breathe before he was being kissed thoroughly, Marco’s tongue fucking into his mouth. His arms were wrapped up and pressed down into the couch.

His thighs were touched, stroked and then wrapped around and tugged further apart while his chest was wiggled over. Another tentacle swept over the head of his dick, prodded the slit, and then touched his piercing again, carefully but firmly. It was like fire zipping through his veins.

He came shaking and shouting with sparks like Marco’s freckles on the back of his eyelids; Marco swallowed the noise and kept him pinned to the couch. The kiss went soft and light, gentle presses and licks the he accepted greedily.

Marco’s tentacles retreated but left him tingling and shivering. He was shifted around so Marco was settled behind him and it was sort of…something, because the tentacles shifted against his skin, almost petting him as he came back down. Marco kissed the back of his neck.

Jean remembered how to breath then tilted his head back. He inhaled, trying to will his voice to stay steady, and quirked an eyebrow. “So. That’s it?”

Marco was silent for a heartbeat and then smiled against his skin. “You’re one of those people who’s into tentacle porn aren’t you?”

“No.” Jean said quickly then, as a tendril crept between legs, amended. “Once or twice. Lucky for you.”

“Yeah.” Marco agreed. “Lucky me.”


	2. Plant Goo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then, because if I’m going to be dirty I like to go full on filth, enjoy this first part of what will be pages and pages of smut until such a point that I’ve exhausted all the weird tentacle shit I feel like writing.   
> Sex pollen (goo) is a thing but it's not a mind altering or fuck or die thing. Just a inhuman refractory period thing. ...to help Jean keep up. 
> 
> Part: 1 of however many it takes to wreck Jean  

 

Jean made a sweep of the radio station and found it just about empty. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence; Marco liked to run things himself and have his interns out in the town following leads when he was on air. Mike was around but he was in the lounge sipping coffee and was all too willing to leave for the day when Jean let it ‘slip’ that Nanaba was off duty early as well.

He stopped in the bathroom to make sure the cat had food and water, and just barely avoided getting bitten for his trouble, then backtracked to the booth. Marco was inside, lips moving as his arms and tentacles waved around near frantically, face tinged purple.

He must have been arguing with someone and, judging by the wrinkle between his brows, he was really irritated.

Good.

Normally Jean would have stayed outside the booth, watching through the glass until Marco went to commercial and noticed him but this time he just opened the door and stepped inside. Marco didn’t notice him at first, far too busy pointing at his mic as if it were the source of his problems.  

“Hey.”

“Who are you to deny our rights to a Waterfront Wag-” Marco stopped, head snapping up and swiveling in his direction. “…And now a commercial from Dok Automotive about the boats they’re going to start offering.”

Jean crept closer, eyes raking over Marco. His boyfriend was ‘standing’ in front of the table, tentacles out and folded around and underneath him like some kind of twitching violet cloud. If clouds were made of snakes because they kind of looked more like snakes than anything else if Jean was being honest.

He was wearing a kilt (pants weren’t exactly an option when Marco was in the mood to be a big tentacle creature who still valued modesty) and a t-shirt with ‘When in Doubt Try Another Hole’ and a bunch of different computer ports printed across the front. Jean took a moment to appreciate the humor as he perched himself on a section of table not littered with coffee cups and candy wrappers.

“When was the last time you cleaned this off?”

“I was going to Monday but then the mayor canceled Monday so I couldn’t.” Marco’s hand brushed his knee. “Is everything okay? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Ackerman sent us home.” Marco’s eyebrows went up in alarm but Jean shrugged it off. He reached out to touch Marco’s hand then ran his fingers over warm skin. “So I thought I’d come see you since I had the time.”

The last two weeks had been busy for both of them. There was a weird plant infestation in the East Dust Bowl that was doing ‘weird’ things to people and Jean’s expertise in all things tentacled had earned him the lead (he wasn’t sure if he was offended about it or not) and Marco had been interviewing the Underground citizens about their Environmental Responsibility campaign and covering Glow Cloud’s surprise run for mayor, among other things.

Marco shifted a little closer while casting a glance at something among the lights and buttons that made up his work station. “Well I’m always glad to see you but I’m on the air right now.”

Jean nodded absently as he wrapped his hand around the back of Marco’s neck and tugged him closer. Marco rolled his eyes but Jean could feel him smiling when their lips met. It was almost nothing but a brush of lips but when Marco tried to pull back he tightened his grip. Marco’s lips parted, probably to protest, but Jean smashed their mouths together and licked past the seam to taste coffee and mint. He flicked over Marco’s tongue with his own then slid along it, not bothering to try and be anything but wet and sloppy.

Marco kissed him back, sucked on his tongue and breathed hot and heavy into mouth. A tentacle brushed his wrist, wrapped around his forearm, and then jerked it away from Marco’s neck and down to his side. It hurt a little but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. Another tentacle caught his other arm, which had been trying to push its way under Marco’s t-shirt.

Jean pouted as his hand was moved just far enough way that his attempts to stretch his fingers out had him swiping at well worn fabric and nothing.

Though, on the other hand, he did like the way Marco’s tentacles felt wrapped around his arms. Warm, the bumps along the underside digging into his skin just so. He flexed a little, testing, and the grip on his arms tightened warningly.

“Jean-”

“Marco.” He mimicked the impatient tone then, softer. “I need you to touch me.”

Marco leveled a look that was equal parts heated and annoyed on him. “We can’t do this right now. I’ve only got two hours left in the show and then I’m yours all weekend.”

“I’ll be quiet.” He wouldn’t.

Marco laughed. “You’re never quiet.”

There was a lot of truth to that but Jean was almost positive that wasn’t the point. They’d made out in the booth a few times, but only on commercials or when music was being played so that no one could hear them and never anything more than that.

Jean was after more. He was hot, sweating and skin pricking with the desire to be touched, and he’d been sporting a hard-on more or less since he’d walked into the station. He wanted Marco, now, and he couldn’t drag up enough fucks to care if the whole town listened.

He spared a thought for explaining that he, and Nanaba, had been covered in weird plant goo that made his skin tingle and heart race and that he’d jerked off twice before deciding to come see Marco but, no, his boyfriend would just get worried and start babbling about altered mental states and consent. It wouldn’t matter that Jean was thinking just as clearly as he was any other time he decided he wanted to have sex and was just way more horny than usual (and had gained a near non-existent refractory period which could only be useful because he’d been wanting to give Marco’s tentacles a serious go for a while and holy shit he really had a tentacle fetish) because Marco was entirely too nice unless pushed just right.

Jean wasn’t interested in nice at the moment.

He really wanted to be fucked, preferably hard, not wrapped up in a blanket and sent to lie on the couch while Marco drifted in and out to baby him.

“If I make noise you can punish me.” Marco’s gaze sharpened and Jean just kept himself from smirking. He knew that look, knew he had Marco interested and just what it would take to get him hooked. He knew how to push just right. “However you want.”

There wasn’t any particular danger in that. Jean was the more creative of the two and Marco was usually content to take him over a knee and spank him or leave him bound and begging for a little while.

It wasn’t about what Marco would do so much as giving him permission to do it. He liked the power and trust behind the acts more than the acts themselves, not that Marco didn’t seem to like those plenty as well, and Jean liked being able to give him that.

“Please? Sir.” Marco shuddered then reached over to hit another button. “What’re you-”

“Queuing up another commercial.”

Success. Maybe. Marco was wearing his serious face and it was hard to guess where that was going to go; it could be ‘I’m worried’ or ‘slipping into dom headspace’ or ‘seriously you’re getting on my nerves, go sit down somewhere’.

The tentacles around his arm released and slid away. “Clothes off. What’s your word?”

Jean hopped up without hesitation and started pulling off his shirt. “Cranberry.”

Not that he’d ever used it or ever expected to. They weren’t super hardcore with their games and Marco was without a doubt the most attentive lover he’d ever had so he didn’t foresee ever getting to a place where he needed to stop things, but his boyfriend took everything very seriously.

“What’s my word?” It seemed even more unlikely that Marco would ever need to safeword but, again, serious business.

“Trost.” He thought it was weird that his hometown was the other man’s ‘Full stop right now’ word but he’d never asked and the reason why had never been volunteered.

Marco nodded approvingly. “What do you want?”

He flipped the button on his pants. “I want to get fucked. Hard.”

Another nod and then Marco held up a finger. “You have to be quiet.” Two fingers. “Don’t touch your dick.” Jean frowned but didn’t argue. Three fingers. “If you want to stop say so.”

He stepped out of his pants and boxers, waiting to see if there were any other orders coming before speaking. “Okay.”

Marco opened a drawer and fished out a clear bottle which he held out to him. “Get yourself ready.”

Jean took it and, with a look around to consider the room, opted to lean against the table and bend a leg to rest his foot on a chair. He poured the lube into his hand, dropped the bottle on the table, and reached down.

“I hope you all enjoyed those informative messages about the future of consumerism in Wall Rose once the waterfront in developed. Let’s return to what I was saying before; it is true that we are in the desert and have no water source for the impending waterfront but does that mean we should be denied?”


End file.
